


Every Game Has a Session Like This

by muldezgron



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls Online
Genre: Abnur Tharn is the DM, Alternate Universe - Tabletop Gaming, Blind Character, Gen, that goes about as well as you'd expect
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:14:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27526708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muldezgron/pseuds/muldezgron
Summary: Five friends get together for a friendly game of Vague and Unspecified Tabletop Roleplaying System. The DM has a lovingly crafted storyline in mind. The players are there to Have Fun.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 13





	Every Game Has a Session Like This

**Author's Note:**

  * For [North Bound](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=North+Bound).



> This was born out of two things:
> 
> 1) I needed a palate cleanser after working on not one but _two_ stories with Extremely Serious Themes, and  
> 2) North specifically requested a Modern AU where Cadwell is blind and Honor is his seeing eye dog.
> 
> ~~Also, I miss face-to-face D &D.~~

“God,” said Lyris. “How do you even eat that? I can practically _feel_ the capsaicin all the way over here.”

Cadwell looked at her—well, not so much _looked_ as turned his face in her direction—and shrugged. “It’s a vindaloo. There’s not much point if it doesn’t blissfully burn your tongue to ashes, now, is there?”

Raksha casually reached over with a plastic fork, speared a piece of lamb from Cadwell’s takeaway, and popped it into his mouth. He tilted his head, eyes back in consideration.

“It’s not terrible,” was his verdict.

“You’re a scoundrel,” said Cadwell, brightly. He reached down to one side to scratch Honor behind the ears. “Go on, old girl. Bite him. Show him what a vicious beast you are.”

Honor wagged her tail and made thoroughly undignified happy dog noises.

“I’m shook,” said Raksha. “Absolutely quaking in my boots. Take your tribute and have mercy.” He tossed a few pakora from his takeaway onto Cadwell’s vindaloo.

Lyris crossed her arms, eyes squinting with disapproval. “Are you sure you’re a doctor? At the rate you’re going, there’s not going to be a single germ the two of you don’t share.”

“Too late for that,” said Cadwell. Lyris raised an eyebrow and was about to speak when Sai came back from the bathroom.

“Did I miss anything?” he asked.

“Only the usual fool’s parade,” sighed Abnur from behind the DM screen. “Welcome back, Sai. Was hoping you’d be out sometime this century.”

“That’s the real hiding place of the Amulet of Kings,” said Cadwell. “None of this Sancre Tor nonsense—it was in the bog the whole time.”

Abnur shot him a glare that could strip paint off an automobile.

“Anyway, back to where we were before we got _distracted_ ,” he said, hands clasped and elbows resting on the table. “You just defeated the guardians and torturers in the vestibule of Heart’s Grief. Before you, you see Mannimarco bound with lightning within a sinister circle of Daedric writing. ‘You!’ he says. ‘Have you come here to gloat at my torment?’”

“No,” said Raksha. “It’s a little hard to gloat at the shift supervisor at Pottery Barn. It’s just too sad.”

Abnur sighed heavily and rubbed at his temples with his thumbs.

“I express surprise that he’s still alive,” said Sai, “considering we all saw him die and watched as his soul was taken by Molag Bal.”

A nod from behind the DM screen. “‘I am neither alive nor dead,’ he tells you. ‘I am trapped in a gout of ash and bile and swirling vapors. My ears are filled with the screams of a thousand nails being drawn. And the pain! The pain is endless.’”

“This is why you shouldn’t try to rules lawyer an actual lawyer,” said Raksha. “You set out to become Necromancy Pun-Pun and end up an extra in Medieval Hellraiser.”

“As he writhes before you,” said Abnur, pointedly ignoring Raksha as he turned to Sai, “You realize that you could, if you wished, have mercy on him and release him from his torment. Or you could leave the man who tortured you for years to his fate.”

Sai rubbed at his beard thoughtfully. “Releasing him would be the honorable thing to do, but it is not solely my decision to make. I turn to my companions and seek their advice.”

“Let him rot,” said Lyris. “We don’t owe him anything.”

“Khajiit agrees with her,” said Raksha, sliding flawlessly into a purring accent. “It is a fitting end for one such as him.”

Cadwell nodded. “Sounds fine to me.”

“Cadwell, you’re a paladin,” said Abnur. “You’re supposed to be Lawful Good.”

“Well, I am, aren’t I? Gallant knight, epic quests, rescued maidens, as you do.” He paused to take a drink of his beer. “From the sounds of it, Mannimarco hasn’t suddenly transformed into a damsel in distress, has he? He’ll be fine where he is.”

“He’s going to be _tortured for eternity_ , Cadwell. For _eternity_.”

“Horses for courses,” replied Cadwell. “Not my cup of tea, exactly, but I’m not about to kinkshame him.”

Sai promptly started to choke on a piece of naan; Lyris gave him a hard whack between the shoulders to dislodge it. “You need to warn people when you’re going to say things like that,” he wheezed.

Abnur sighed and shook his head. “Chancellor Tharn, of course, recommends leaving him where he is so he cannot interfere further, and Varen, the Prophet—” He rolled a few dice behind the screen, and squinted at the unseen result. “Well. He makes some vague noises about his fate not being clearly inscribed in the Elder Scrolls and all that.”

“Color me surprised,” said Lyris, with a roll of her eyes.

Sai cleared his throat. “I will go with the decision of the group, then. I will not release Mannimarco from his torment.”

The mighty eyebrows of Learned Hand seemed to regard them impassively from the DM screen, his face taped onto the body of a muscled barbarian in furs.

Abnur narrated their exit from the Vestibule, along the Path of Woe to the Seat of Tyranny, and went into lavish detail describing its resemblance to a temple of the Divines. As he spoke, Cadwell had gotten onto his phone, holding a single earbud up to one ear with the other strand dangling loose and out of sight. His eyes stared in no direction in particular, but that was par for the course with Cadwell, really.

“Cadwell,” said Abnur, sharply. “Are you paying attention?”

“Of course I am,” said Cadwell, turning towards Abnur. He continued tapping at the phone screen without interruption. “It’s time to sacrifice someone to restore the Amulet of Kings. I’ll nobly volunteer, of course.”

“You can’t, sadly,” he replied. “It has to be one of the original Five Companions who were present for the Soulburst.”

“Well, then, there’s obviously only one solution,” said Raksha. “Time to go back to the vestibule and get Mannimarco.”

“ _No,_ ” said Abnur, over Lyris’s whoop of approval. “Mannimarco is not an option—”

“He _is_ one of the original Five Companions, though,” noted Cadwell. “Being sacrificed to a piece of jewelry for the sake of the world is one way to be released from eternal torment, isn’t it?”

He grit his teeth. “You were _just_ arguing not even five minutes ago that everyone should leave Mannimarco where he was.”

“Well, if we released him,” he replied, “he wouldn’t be available to sacrifice, now, would he?”

“I agree,” said Sai, nodding solemnly. “This sounds like the most reasonable course of action. If we must sacrifice someone to continue, let it be the one who orchestrated the Soulburst and corrupted the Amulet of Kings to begin with.”

Abnur glowered over the DM screen for a minute, then rolled some dice behind the screen without actually looking at them. “Oh no,” he said, flatly. “It seems an iron gate has closed behind you. There’s no way around it. You can’t go back for Mannimarco now.”

“Well, then,” said Raksha, with a sigh. “I suppose my next best option is Chancellor Tharn.”

“He’s not an option, either,” replied Abnur. “Chancellor Tharn has to perform the ritual, so he can’t be sacrificed. Your options are Lyris, Sai, or Varen.”

Raksha rested his chin in his hands, thinking carefully, as Cadwell quietly mimicked the sound of a train whistle.

“Why does it have to be Raksha?” asked Lyris. “I want to be the one to falcon punch Molag Bal into the stratosphere.”

“No one’s going to be ‘falcon punching’ anyone,” said Abnur. “And it has to be Raksha because he doesn’t have a soul.”

“This one would gladly hold onto her soul temporarily,” said Raksha, sliding effortlessly into character voice, “just for the sight of the Prince of Schemes being suplexed by the largest of angry Nord women.”

“No one is getting _suplexed_ either,” he said, with thinning patience. “This isn’t a WWWF match. You’re being imbued with the power of Akatosh, Dragon God of Time, in order to defeat Molag Bal and save the world.”

“If a Dragon God can’t suplex a Daedric Prince,” said Cadwell, “well, honestly, why even bother being a god at that point?”

Raksha sighed. “I suppose it will have to be Varen, then. Hopefully he won’t be upset about having to roll another character.”

“He’s missed five games in a row,” said Lyris. “God, it feels like he’s been an NPC longer than he was in the party.”

“At least he will have a heroic end,” said Sai. “A noble sacrifice made to correct his original error.”

“The Prophet accepts your choice,” said Abnur, “and he says a short prayer asking Akatosh to forgive his hubris. Chancellor Tharn begins the ritual, and a golden light begins to leave the Prophet’s body, transferring to the amulet in Tharn’s hands. ‘Accept this offering and imbue this vestige with your glory,’ he says. ‘Let the will of Molag Bal be denied!’” As serious as he was, Abnur did have a way of getting very, very into the game whenever there was an excuse to be a large ham.

“With these words,” he continued, “the ritual is complete. You are surrounded by golden light and lifted into the air, and then, you stand before the Companions, wearing the regalia of the Emperor and glowing with the power of Akatosh.”

At that moment, Cadwell removed the earphone jack from his phone, set it down on the table, and tapped the screen once.

Megalovania came blasting out of the speakers.

“ _Cadwell_ ,” said Abnur, as Lyris burst out in a table-shaking bout of laughter. “Cadwell, _no—_ ”

“I thought the moment could use some ambiance,” he said, innocently.

“Beautiful,” said Raksha, wiping a tear of mirth away between giggles. “This is exactly how it should go down.”

“This is _supposed_ to be a serious moment,” said Abnur. He turned to look at Sai, hoping for back-up. Sai was not laughing, but he was grinning ear to ear, hard enough that just looking at his face made Abnur’s cheeks hurt.

“Fine!” he said, throwing his hands up in the air. “You kamehameha through the goddamn walls, falcon punch a dozen titans or whatever into the sky, laser Molag Bal in the face, cut him in half with a lightsaber, _I don’t care_.”

“I’m sorry to have to be the one to tell you this, Abnur,” said Cadwell, cheerfully, “but you’re no Wayne June.”

**Author's Note:**

> Ngl _any_ meme song could work here, but Megalovania is the mental image that made me have to take my hands off the keyboard and laugh for a minute straight. Because I'm a huge dork like that.
> 
> Anyway, moral of the story: character alignment is just a bunch of Words, the bard is going to flirt with Cthulhu, and if the party wants to sacrifice Mannimarco, _let the party try to sacrifice Mannimarco ___


End file.
